


When You Move, I'm Moved

by patroclilles



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballet, Canon Trans Character, Coming Out, David's POV, F/F, Hip Hop, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Rivalry, Sexual Tension, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patroclilles/pseuds/patroclilles
Summary: "He first fell in love with dance, with reservations. Then he fell in love with hip hop. It was something about being grounded, always searching the floor and digging his feet into it instead of fighting against gravity with leaps and light postures. There is no fantasy about it: it’s raw and real. The red and runny proof of work always hidden underneath his ballet shoes came to the surface in hip hop––so that everyone could see the unquestionable effort it took. Hip hop was David’s truth."Or David is the leader of a hip hop dance crew called Pink and White. Matteo is a ballet dancer part of a respected dance troupe. Both dance teams share a studio. Rivalry ensues.





	When You Move, I'm Moved

David strikes the final pose of his practice and holds it, his left arm stretched out in front of him. He stares at himself in the mirror of the empty studio, only a few feet away from his reflection. He replays the last few moves before the one he holds in this moment, taking mental notes on what to improve next time. His sneaker-clad feet face forward, grounded and wider than shoulder distance apart. His dark wavy hair falls in front of his eyes, covering the beads of sweat on his forehead, but the flush of his cheeks is a telltale sign that he’s been hard at work.

He gives himself a smile in the mirror. He looks good today. He thinks it’s almost a shame no one’s watching.

For all of his life, David has been dancing. For the first half of it, he hated it. But there was always something about it, something that transcended the genre, that he loved. Maybe it was the constant movement. Maybe it was that every time he struck a pose, he could feel even the blood in his body rushing from one end to the other, his breathes constantly racing for an entry and exit. Nothing about dance is ever still, even at a microscopic level. Even when there’s a beginning and an end, there’s always movement. 

David used to dance ballet, and he was good at it too. He hated that he was good at it. He never quite understood this contradiction, he could never put it to words: loving something so much and hating it at the same time. Then he discovered something new, and finally understood what it was he was expected to be feeling this entire time.

He first fell in love with dance, with reservations. Then he fell in love with hip hop. It was something about being grounded, always searching the floor and digging his feet into it instead of fighting against gravity with leaps and light postures. There is no fantasy about it: it’s raw and real. The red and runny proof of work always hidden underneath his ballet shoes came to the surface in hip hop––so that everyone could see the unquestionable effort it took. Hip hop was David’s truth.

Now David stands as still as he can, holding his pose while his chest heaves. All of his weight tunnels down through the arches of his feet, planting him so strongly he’s sure it would take an army to get him to give way.

He drops his arm and shakes his head, combing his hair away from his face. He exhales loudly as he kicks his foot back to give him the momentum to turn and cross to the other side of the room.

He knows he shouldn’t be in the studio. His hip hop crew, Pink and White, finished rehearsal over an hour ago and here he is, perfecting the group choreography that he knows still needs work.

When he reaches the opposite wall of the studio, he retrieves his water bottle from his sports bag and chugs until it’s half empty. In the middle of drinking, he sees blurry movement in his periphery and hears the floorboards creaking.

There they are, filing in, the ballet class schedule for—damn it, is it five in the afternoon already? Lips tilted upwards against his bottle’s mouth, David looks down at his lifted wristwatch and shakes it away in frustration. He reluctantly begins to pack up.

“Here again past your scheduled time, I see?” a voice chirps from behind him.

David looks up from where he kneels by his duffel bag. Above him stands the prima ballerina, Sara, in all her blond majestic glory. 

He levels a stare at her. It’s not encouraged, but there’s nothing illegal about taking the studio for solo practice when it’s not booked. He knows Sara knows this.

“I guess you needed the extra practice, huh?” Sara asks, hand on her hip, one eyebrow lifted as if holding up all the condescension her tone suggests.

David squints his eyes up at her. “I’m leaving right now,” he says, standing up and swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

“Good,” she replies as he walks away. “And David?”

He stops and looks over his shoulder back at her.

“Yeah?”

Sara looks at him appraisingly, taking a few moments before answering.

“Tell your crew mates to clean up after themselves in the locker room. It’s always disgusting when we have to use it afterwards.”

David sighs. His crew-mates can be disgusting and refuse to respect the boundaries of the locker room. She’s right, though he knows she’s only saying it to tell him off.

“I’ll let them know,” he replies simply.

He waves his goodbye and turns back towards the exit, but not before colliding into someone else.

David’s been around long enough crossing paths with the ballet class to recognize basically all of its members’ faces. But this one is new. 

Before him stands a confused looking boy. He has dirty blond hair with an undercut on the sides and a long fringe that messily covers his forehead, leading David’s gaze directly into piercing blue eyes. His face is freckled with acne, and his lips––well, David tries not to stare at them long enough to describe them. He can only look into the color blue.

“Sorry,” says David, gripping the strap of his duffel bag.

“It’s okay,” says the other boy.

David is not one to make assumptions, but there’s already so much running through his mind based on just two words. Does this boy speak up much? His small voice says otherwise, but the shy smirk that peeks through underneath the simple words tells David that this guy has a sense of humor he’s not willing to share so quickly.

He’s been staring into this boy’s eyes for too long. Thankfully he breaks eye contact by turning towards the wall and setting down his bag. It’s dark blue, with _PROPERTY OF LUIGI_ penned in messily on one of the pockets alongside several nonsensical doodles with inconsistent handwriting. David deduces _Luigi’s_ friends must have done it.

All within a few, long, awkward seconds, David assesses _Luigi_. The blond wears a tight black crew neck shirt, and baggy grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips, showing black tights underneath. Black leather slippers clad his feet. His long pale neck sticks out in stark contrast to the dark of his crew neck, and his collarbones jut out against the fabric so clearly David can make out the outline perfectly. David didn’t think such a simple getup could look so much like it belonged in a streetwear fashion show, and he finds that he really wouldn’t mind getting an invitation for that lineup at all.

The boy slouches, looking down at his duffel bag, his profile showing David his perfectly sloped nose. David could trail a finger on it. 

 _Luigi_ fidgets under David’s stare and turns his head, tipping his head back a little so his Adam’s apple juts out against his throat and turning his gaze towards David.  

“You’re new to the class?” David asks when their eyes finally meet again.

“Yeah.” The boy shrugs. “Are you?”

David scoffs. “No. I’m part of the hip hop crew before this. Pink and White.”

“Oh,” Matteo says, confused.

David feels like the question underlying is, _then why are you here?_

“I basically live here when you guys don’t,” David answers, shrugging.

A few more awkward moments pass between them. David thinks he’s hallucinating when he sees the lump in Matteo’s throat bob.

David inhales sharply before saying, ”Well, uh, welcome to the studio, and good luck keeping up with her.” He gestures to Sara who stretches a few feet behind them. 

The boy gives David a smile, that little bit of humour David saw earlier becoming a little more clear. David feels bad he can’t stay to see more of it show. 

“ _Hello_!” Sara yells from behind him, reminding him that ballet class is about to start, and that––more importantly––David has to leave. David closes his eyes slowly and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he can tell the other boy is biting back a laugh. 

“Right. So, have a good practice,” says David.

“Thanks. See you,” the boy says as David walks away.

David drags his feet to the studio exit, but reminds himself he’ll be back soon enough to finish what he started.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, David catches the tail end of ballet rehearsals, before Pink and White is about to set up and practice. He’s always the first one of his crew at the studio, and the last one to leave. He doesn’t mind, especially not today, when he gets to see the blond guy with the pouty lips in his element.

And, boy, is that element absolutely beautiful.  

David stands by the studio entrance, peeking through the door that gives him a view of the studio from only a limited angle. But it’s enough. 

David recognizes the song; it gives him a visceral emotional reaction that he immediately pushes aside and buries deep inside himself. A common song to dance to in ballet, all too familiar for David. But it’s easy to forget about what he’s buried when the artists he beholds look so enthralled in their work, throwing their entire selves into it so graciously. David can only see the beauty in the art they create.

Through the door he’s able to see Sara leap into view. David’s eyes follow her into the arms of someone who becomes more visible the more they move. It’s the new guy, _Luigi_. The blond moves with his entire body and there’s not a single digit that’s never active. When he and Sara touch, they’re extensions of the other. When they’re not touching, they move in harmony and in unison, as is they are currents in a river, diverging and converging when the water hits the right notes. It’s a duet, but they are one. David watches as the man lifts the prima ballerina, suspending her in the air, and for a moment, David finds himself suspended too. 

He realizes he’s leaning into the doorframe when the instructor suddenly calls for a small break. David analyzes the ballet troupe’s dynamics in the moments that follow. There’s a basic sense of professional respect between them, especially towards Sara, and he can understand that. He shares this respect, despite Sara and him always seeming to butt heads. She’s worked hard to get where she is, and she cares about her teammates––all things he and her have in common. He thinks fleetingly that if his world actually did extend past this studio––past dance––that maybe they’d be good friends.

A few dancers laugh and push each other playfully on one end of the studio, while on the other side, colleagues critique each other’s posture and correct certain moves. They hang on to each other’s words like their livelihoods depend on it. They do, kind of. This ballet class was composed of extremely talented dancers, those who had big dreams for the stage. As far as David knew, this dance troupe did not play around. Everyone was there because they took their art seriously. 

David notices the blond boy talking to Sara. Then he notices the smile that was reserved for David the first time they spoke show unabashedly for Sara. Something tugs at David’s heart. He didn’t get to see that comfort when he first met him. He doesn’t know why, but he wishes the boy would look at David like that. He is determined to see that smile eventually directed at him, preferably soon. 

The choreographer calls the end of break and assembles the troupe again, giving some final notes before cueing in the next song, a song David doesn’t recognize this time. They rehearse all together, David’s eyes following a certain blond the entire time.

Rehearsal ends after the song and before David can stop himself, he pushes through the studio entrance before the dancers can make their way out. He sets his duffel bag next to _Luigi_ ’s before the other boy even gets to it. He starts to rummage through his bag for nothing in particular, just to keep his hands busy.

“Hey,” David hears from behind him.

David turns his head like he doesn’t know who he’s expecting. 

“Hey,” he replies, trying for surprise with a mix of disinterest. He’s sure he fails miserably.

 _Luigi_ takes his duffel bag from the floor and stands awkwardly, looking down at David searching aimlessly through his bag.

“Here before you’re supposed to be, here after you’re supposed to be. I’m starting to think you’re actually dedicated,” _Luigi_ says playfully.

There’s that sense of humor David was hoping to see today. He smiles, too goofily for his own comfort. He’s glad his back faces the boy, but chides himself for probably looking like an idiot rummaging through his bag for nothing. David zips up his bag and stands up to face the new guy.

“What made you think I wasn’t from the start? It’s sort of my brand. _Dedicated David_.”

David realizes he just introduced himself without actually introducing himself. He shoots out his hand and says, “David, if you haven’t connected the dots yet.”

 _Luigi_ looks down at his outstretched hand and back up at David, an amused smile growing on his face. _There it is_ , David thinks to himself. He can’t help but smile back.

“Matteo,” he says, shaking David’s hand.

David clears his throat. “I saw your duet with Sara. You two are a great duo. You’re very good,” he says.

Matteo ducks his head, like he’s not used to compliments. Then he bites his lip, and David wishes he wouldn’t. He really, _really_ wishes he wouldn’t, because when he’s not lost in the blue sea of Matteo’s eyes, he’s lost in the unreally pigmented color of his lips. Why, even when they’re resting, must his lips pout like that?

Matteo lets go of his lip, and the spell is broken. David takes the opportunity to look down at the writing on Matteo’s bag and back up to Matteo, showing a little bit of confusion.

Matteo takes a few seconds to understand, looking down at his duffel bag and his expression changing as he does. “Luigi’s just a nickname my friends tease me with,” he explains. 

“Ah,” David says airily.

Crew members of Pink and White start to file in and suddenly this little world that he and Matteo have, where just the two of them live, is replaced with the world David has built for himself from scratch. He can’t lose sight of that.

Matteo’s gaze follows his own and he seemingly remembers he has to leave.

“Have a good rehearsal,” says Matteo as he picks up his bag and makes his way to the studio exit.

“See you,” David says, eyes lingering a little too long on the back of Matteo’s head as he leaves.

David’s focus turns to dance for the next hour, but he can’t seem to shake a feeling of newness. He never planned for this: to meet a new boy, to get to know him and––for fuck’s sake––to actually _want_ to get to know him more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That night, David returns to his apartment exhausted. Laura sits in the living room with a pizza in front of her on the coffee table. She doesn’t look too interested with the reality show playing on the television screen, her legs stretched out on an ottoman and her hair twirling between her fingers.

“You look beat,” Laura says as David walks into the living room.

“Thanks,” says David, deadpan. He sets his beanie carelessly on the table and the coins inside jostle against each other as it lands. 

Laura puts her hands behind her head, leans back, and assesses the beanie.

“Didn’t end up raising a lot today?” she asks. 

“Nope,” David says curtly. He sits down on the couch and runs his hands on his face.

The day was exhausting. After rehearsal in the morning, David stopped by the studio’s administrative office to schedule a few more slots for his crew. There, he was told by the studio owner that he was behind on payments and that he would have to cough it up soon or lose all studio privileges.

The studio was something he and Laura fought for, for months. If he wanted his crew to succeed, they needed a quiet space to work and improve without the constant distractions from passers-by. They needed this for so many reasons, and whatever the crew needs, David and Laura would always find a way provide.

Laura looks at David’s profile, reading the room.

“Tomorrow you’ll try again. I’ll come out with you. You know I’m your lucky charm,” she says, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows.

David gives her a tired smile, but he genuinely appreciates it. He takes a slice of pizza and finishes it as they mindlessly watch the television.

Laura’s phone buzzes. She blows air out dramatically from her mouth when she looks at the screen.

“Girlfriend drama?” David asks, grabbing another slice pizza from the box on the coffee table.

Laura runs a hands through her hair, looking exasperated but terribly amused.

“No, Linn’s just being cute as fuck and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Can’t relate.”

Laura reaches across the couch to smack David’s arm.

“Don’t be so sore.”

“I’m not! I’m happy as hell for you,” says David with a mouth full of pizza.

“You could relate if you wanted to, you know,” Laura mumbles, typing a response on her phone.

David gives her a cynical look, slowly chewing on his food.

Laura sends the text, moves to grab a pizza slice and looks up to see David’s expression. She rolls her eyes.

“C’mon! What’s stopping you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but David can tell she immediately regrets asking it because––really, she should know better––David will answer it anyway.

David begins, “Well, for one––“

“ _For one_ ,” Laura interrupts, biting into her slice, “there are plenty of people out there who would probably line up for a date with you.”

David rolls his eyes.

“For _two_ ,” Laura continues, mumbling through a mouth full of food, “you deserve to find something like that in your life.”

David scoffs. He remembers his last boyfriend, and the girlfriend before that, all in high school years ago. It never worked out; David was too enthralled in dance to commit himself to anything else. And yet, he knows Laura’s right, but it doesn’t matter about who’s right and who’s wrong. What matters is dance, getting his crew on a stage, getting the next gig and the gig after that. Romance and dating be damned.

“I don’t have time to find it,” David says, shrugging. “I don’t have time for that at all.”

He stares at the television and avoids his sister’s eyes. A loud crash and dramatic yelling come from the speakers across the room as Laura finishes her slice.

“I’m not trying to rush you, David, or make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing,” Laura says softly, licking grease off her finger and tossing the leftover crust onto the open pizza box. “I’m just saying to not close yourself off to the concept entirely.”

They don’t say anything else until the show’s ending credits roll onto the screen and the leftover crust begins to stale. David goes into his room soon after, closing the door behind him and, by proxy, closing himself off from the world for the night. He thinks to himself, it’s not so bad being alone, just for tonight at least. Tomorrow is another day in the studio, and he won’t be so alone then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

David returns to the studio the next day and finds the ballet class there again. He watches them move rhythmically, remembering his childhood and the constant practice and unreal expectations put on his body when he danced this genre. There’s pain behind the beauty in ballet, but for David it’s even more raw than most can understand.

But then David sees Matteo and suddenly it all goes away, almost. He finds himself firmly in the present, shedding the past with every flap of Matteo’s arms. There’s something in Matteo’s grace, the slight curve of his lips, the light taps on the hard floors, that all speak to his passion. This is what David was missing when he used to dance ballet. This is what he found in hip hop.

“Yo, boss man!” Mohammed appears next to David and chest bumps his shoulder, breaking David away from his train of thought. He wears a simple get up: a black t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. His hair rests in waves against his temples, parted down the middle of his head. He runs his hand through his hair, giving him a side part. He grins, his stubble framing his face handsomely.

“Hey, man. Good weekend?” David asks, laughing. They clasp hands and bump shoulders in greeting and begin walking to the locker room to meet with the rest of the crew.

“Yeah, went out of town to meet Amira’s parents. Scary shit, dude,” Mohammed says.

David raises his eyebrows. After months of Mohammed quietly pining over Amira, they finally got together and have been moving slowly in their relationship. David admires them, honestly, how they can make it work despite being in the same dance crew.

“What, did they threaten you or something?” David asks.

“Nah, they actually love me. But you know,” Mohammed shrugs, getting shy suddenly, “still don’t want to disappoint them or anything.”

“I would be more worried about dealing with Essam and Omar than their parents,” David jokes.

“Well, they’re always a pain in the ass, but I can deal with them.”

David places a hand on Mohammed’s shoulder and shakes it. He doesn’t have much to say, but he knows Mohammed is doing well. David is happy for him and Amira. David remembers Laura’s words from yesterday, telling him not to close himself off from something like this, a relationship. He almost wants to ask Mohammed, _is it worth it?_ But he bites back the question, thinking better of it.

They arrive at the locker room at the end of the hall and they find the rest of the crew already changed into dance appropriate clothing. Sam, Mia, and Hanna are in the middle of lacing up their sneakers on one of the benches and Amira, Essam, and Omar are closing up their lockers when David and Mohammed walk in.

“David!” Sam exclaims from the bench as soon as she sees him. Her long braids are baby blue and she wears a neon yellow tracksuit.

“You have to settle it once and for all,” Mia immediately follows. David looks quickly between the both of them, a little thrown.

“Who’s the best freestyler out of all of us?” Hanna finishes for both Mia and Sam. She looks at David expectantly as she ties her red hair up in a sloppy ponytail.

David stills, not expecting such a forward question. His mates can be competitive, so he wants to avoid causing any drama, even if it’s all in good fun. They need to focus on the rehearsal today. 

David exhales dramatically from his mouth and says, “Why do I have to answer that?”

“Because you’re the crew leader!” Hanna says emphatically, moving her hands in front of her to underline her point. “You know us better than anyone.” 

Mohammed elbows David’s side and raises his thick eyebrows suggestively.

“You know it’s me, David. It’s got to be me,” Mohammed says.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mohammed,” Amira chirps from the other side of the room, adjusting the sleeves on her white sweatshirt. She crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow as she levels an unimpressed look at her boyfriend.

“Woah, woah, woah, take it easy on my bestie, Amira,” Essam joins the fun next, sidling up next to Mohammed and throwing an arm over his shoulder. He wears a red hoodie with a backwards facing baseball cap.

“He’s too fragile for your criticism, he just might cry,” Essam finishes.

Mohammed and Amira look at Essam and then lock eyes from across the room, then the locker room erupts in laughter.

“You guys have to let that go, it was one fucking time,” Mohammed says through teary eyes and laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” David drawls. He waves to his crew mates. “Come on, Laura’s probably waiting for us already. And make sure to clean up your shit if you’re done changing, Sara is still complaining about that.” 

The team groans and does as he says.

Laura waits by the studio entrance, scrolling disinterestedly through her phone with a knee bent and a foot propped against the wall she leans on. Next to her, the dancers leave the studio and David is keenly aware of all of their faces, searching desperately for one.

Then he finds it.

Matteo talks enthusiastically with Sara, moving his hands with passion while Sara gives him an amused look. David isn’t close enough to hear what they’re talking about, and even if he was, his crew mates teasing each other behind him drown out everything else. 

Matteo looks over Sara’s shoulder as they turn the corner and walk further away from David towards the building exit. He locks eyes with David, and it’s enough for both of them to exchange _something_. It leaves David empty when they break eye contact just a second later.

David feels distant, like he’s reaching for something and his efforts are drowned out by the movements and sounds around him. The banter of his crew mates turn into the music that they all move to, all things he loves so much and would do anything for, but it’s all muffled today. Dancing hip hop has never felt this way before today. David hopes it doesn’t last for long.

As he shuffles and gyrates and jumps and kicks, David thinks that maybe it’s almost futile to try to grasp for anything other than dance. He’s tried before, and it’s always failed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

David stands with Laura in the courtyard of the studio building, waiting for the rest of Pink and White so they can walk in together for the day’s rehearsal. They are mid-conversation when David notices the ballet class begin to file out of the building.

He sees Matteo come out and meet with his friends, as Laura drawls on and it turns into unintelligible mumbles to David. One of Matteo’s friends pops a lollipop in his mouth as he brings Matteo in for a bear hug. The other two––one quite tall with noticeable stubble and the other with an eternally lost expression on his face––look on fondly and crack a joke between themselves. 

Matteo escapes from his chubby friend’s embrace and fixes his own hair. His cheeks are red and he grins wider than David has ever seen before. From across the courtyard, David feels a tug in Matteo’s direction.

Sara joins Matteo and his friends, with another shorter girl with light brown hair beside her. The two girls’ arms lock around each other’s waist and easily join the conversation.

They all look so unreserved and carefree. David is sort of jealous. He wishes he could have some of that in his own life: something, _people_ , outside of dance.

A loud snap brings David back to his immediate surroundings. Laura looks at David expectantly. Most of the Pink and White crew surround them, in the middle of small talk but awaiting David and Laura’s cue to enter the building.

“Where were you just now?” asks Laura.

“I’m here,” David says. He looks back up to Matteo, who leaves the courtyard with his entourage in the midst of laughter and glee.

Laura follows David’s gaze, landing on a certain boy.

“He’s new, I think,” she says.

David questions that. He feels like he’s known this boy for a long time.

“I think that’s someone else,” David says dismissively.

Without another word, he makes his way through the courtyard and into the studio building, getting lost in his movements until he loses himself to music.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning greets David with loud knocking. He startles out of bed, groggily rubbing his eyes as he gets to the door to open it. He finds Laura beaming on the other side of it.

“What’s going on?” David says as Laura pushes past him and sits on his bed with her legs crossed. Her hair is down, her frizzy waves framing her face charmingly, and she grins as she pushes a lock behind her ear.

“We got a gig for a music video,” she says hurriedly, barely keeping her excitement at bay.

David runs his hand over his face, hardly comprehending.

“What?” he says.

“You know that up-and-coming rap group from town that we’ve been following on Soundcloud for months now?” Laura says, waving her hands in front of her as if that would jog his sleep-laden memory.

Her words start making sense as David sits on the bed next to her and leans back, propping himself on his forearm.

“Ok.Cool?” he asks.

“Yes!” Laura says, slapping both her hands down against the mattress and making David bounce a little bit. He chuckles a little at her excitement, endeared.

Laura is as dedicated to David’s crew as he is, he knows this. She may not dance, but she co-founded Pink and White with him and helped him recruit members from the start only a few years ago as soon as they were both done with high school. David hardly made it through one semester of college before dropping out to pursue dance, while Laura finished with a degree in business management. Years later, in their early twenties, they lead a dance crew with a prospective future. Laura is the the manager, getting gigs and slots in competitions and even finding the studio that they’re struggling so hard to keep up payments with now. David is so grateful to her, he feels like all he can do to repay her is to dance his ass off and lead his crew like the choreographer he was always meant to be.

“That’s fucking amazing!” David says now, sitting up and overwhelmed with gratitude for Laura. “How did you manage that?” 

“I _am_ the manager, aren’t I?”

David exhales a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes. “Seriously!”

Laura grins and says, “Well, their last song has been blowing up so much that a small local label noticed them and signed them, and now they want to produce a music video for that song. You remember I’ve been in contact with one of the members for a bit and sent them a sample video of our work?”

David remembers vaguely what she’s talking about. It was months ago, and they didn’t actually think anything would come of it, especially since Ok.Cool was still relatively unknown. David and Laura sent the video sample and moved on, searching for other opportunities because, after all, life goes on.

“Yeah, I remember,” says David.

“Well, then, voilà. We have the fucking gig.”

They stare at each other for several seconds, Laura’s grin stretching so far David’s sure her cheeks hurt. He starts to grin too, and as soon as he cracks a smile, Laura squeals and throws herself onto him for a tight hug. David laughs and squeals too, squeezing her and swaying them slightly back and forth. 

He can’t believe it. Maybe the studio as a practice space for Pink and White is unstable, but at least they have this win.

Laura pulls back from the hug and exhales deeply, shaking her hands in front of her as if trying to calm her nerves.

“I feel on top of the world right now. I kind of want to do something to celebrate,” Laura says.

“Oh?” David says, curious.

“Yeah! I was thinking, why don’t we host a party or something? Invite the different groups from the studio, and our friends, of course. Well, _my_ friends. And who knows, you might make one or two yourself.”

David’s face must be obvious to read, because in the next second Laura is playfully punching his arm. 

“Come on, we should build a relationship with other dancers outside of the studio. It’s good networking!” Laura says.

There’s Laura’s manager mind at work yet again. David knows she’s right.

He whines anyway, “Do we _have_ to invite the ballet class?” 

Laura groans, throwing her head back, “Don’t you ever get tired of this rivalry?”

“It’s healthy competition.”

Laura rolls her eyes.

“But is it? If we’re only ever butting heads with the ballet class in the microcosm of the studio? I don’t know, I just think we should build some camaraderie and a relationship between groups outside of the studio. Competition is healthy, but so is building relationships beyond our common practice.”

David sighs dramatically before acquiescing, “Okay, fine, we’ll have a party, but you deal with the planning and invitations and everything. I’m just here to dance.”

Laura scoffs.

“Who says there won’t be dancing at the party?” she says, pushing herself off the bed and making her way out of David’s room.

David’s left to reflect on the good news of the morning. His crew has a gig, a promising one at that. He lays onto his back and runs both his hands over his face, pausing to laugh between his fingers.

And maybe he has a second thing to look forward to: a party––potentially attended to by a ballet class and a certain new member he would like to get to know better––though getting David to admit that would probably be as easy as pulling teeth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We have good news, and bad news,” Laura says with a fry in her mouth.

Pink and White sit in a booth at a burger joint after one of their rehearsals. The twilight sky paints everyone in a soft pink light as they devour their meals. Everyone wears leis after Mia managed to convince everyone to go to a party store before eating dinner here. Sam, Essam and Omar––like the menaces they are––tore up one of the aisles of the store and got glitter in everyone’s hair and clothes. David ushered everyone out before they could get kicked out by the staff, but not before buying leis for everyone.

“Good news first!” Sam yells from across the table. She tugs at her lei which got tangled with her hair, ultimately deciding to take off the garment altogether.

Amira sits next to her, readjusting her hijab and Sam’s hair as Sam lays her head on Amira’s shoulder. They pop a fry in their mouths at the same time.

“Are you sure?” Laura says, who sits by the window in the booth, glancing at David next to her out the corner of her eyes.

Mohammed nudges David’s side and says, “Can’t be that good, can it?”

David lets out a little laugh through his nose.

“It’s more than good. We got a gig, dancing for an Ok.Cool music video,” David says.

“What?!” half the crew yell out in unison. Laura immediately shushes them, looking around and making eye contact with the waiter who gives her a knowing look. When she looks back at the team, the expressions on the member’s faces are so comical she and David can barely hold back laughter.

Sam has a lock of her own hair in her mouth and her and Amira’s eyes are wide. Essam holds Mia’s arm with both hands in a death grip, and Mia’s blond hair is so messy it must mean Essam had shaken her up once or twice in his own surprise and excitement. Hanna chews slowly and Mohammed and Omar sport shit-eating grins.

They all follow Laura’s command, sitting in stunned silence.

David takes the silent opportunity to elaborate.

“We haven’t known for long, but shooting day is a couple of months away, and I’ve already started working on choreography,” David says.

“Of course, you have,” Essam chirps, teasing.

“Shut up, man. This is a serious gig,” David says, smiling.

“And we are _happy_ ––“ Amira kicks Essam underneath the table and gives him a pointed look before turning back to David and continuing fondly, “that you have already started preparing a routine. We know it’s going to be amazing.”

The rest of the crew holler out their agreement. This time, the waiter shushes them.

“Okay, okay, hit us with the bad news then,” Mia says after they calm down.

David’s face falls. He had almost forgotten about it. He looks to Laura, who just raises her eyebrows and makes a gesture like she’s ripping off a bandaid.

“We’re behind on payments for the studio,” David says. “Soon we won’t have a rehearsal space if we don’t raise the money in time.”

The excitement that buzzed between the team evaporates and anxiety quickly replaces it.

“Is there something we can do?” Hanna asks. “Maybe we can fundraise or something,” she suggests, sitting upright now.

“No, no, let’s focus on our work and the music video choreography,” David says, quick to abate their anxieties. “I don’t want you guys to stress about the studio. It was a nice-to-have, but it’s just that. We can rehearse elsewhere. It’s not ideal, but we’ve worked in worse conditions.”

The crew members nod soberly, agreeing. They can all remember their early days, most of them college drop-outs with big dreams, working their asses off to win competitions and get where they are now. 

“Well,” Mia sighs, “the good news definitely outshines the bad, not gonna lie.”

The crew lights up again, cheering and throwing pieces of food at each other. A bit of ketchup ends up on David’s face, and he wipes it off with a laugh and no bitterness at all. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Again?!”

Sara’s voice is a shriek that makes half of the group lose their balance and the other half freeze entirely in place. It’s comical almost, David holds back a laugh while his crew disperses like a frightened flock of pigeons as Sara storms into the studio.  

“We reserved this spot two weeks ago!” Sara yells as she stomps into the room. David can see some of her peers through the open studio entrance.

David’s amused smirk wipes clear off as he suddenly remembers––“Fuck, Sara, I’m sorry. I totally forgot to cancel our slot.”

Sara rolls her eyes, and embarrassment crawls up David’s face like heat.

“I want you to have a space to practice as much as for my group too,” Sara says, controlled but her stance is firm. “I respect your work, but we need to have boundaries. It’s like you forget that there’s a world outside of this room when you’re in it!”

David feels his courage crawl away and cower, and he hates himself for it. If there’s anything he values as much as his crew’s work, it’s professionalism. How could he expect to be taken seriously if he’s continuously stepping on his colleague’s toes?

Essam steps forward, sensing David’s guard giving way.

“Hey, hey, Sara, we’re sorry, we messed up, we know,” Essam says.

Sara rips her eyes away from David and looks at Essam fiercely. Essam doesn’t lose his balance.

“How about this? Why don’t we make this fun?” Essam says.

David has no idea where he’s going with this, and gives Essam the same confused stare that Sara gives him too.

Essam glances at David, something in his eyes telling David, _trust me_.

“Dance battle here, Saturday, and whoever wins gets the studio for a month,” he finishes.

Everyone in the studio groans collectively. David steps forward, mouth ajar and about to voice a protest––then Essam meets his gaze again, and David stops in his tracks.

Essam steps forward to meet David halfway and whisper in his ear, “What’s there to lose?”

David collects his chaotic thoughts and is suddenly keenly aware of everyone looking at the three of them in the center of the studio. He takes a moment to look at the members of Pink and White, who look confused but confident in whatever David will say next.

If they win the dance battle, they can worry about raising the money to fund booking the studio later. If they lose, then they don’t even have to worry about funding it at all.

David looks at Laura, who sits by the studio entrance like she always does in rehearsals. He remembers what she told him about needing to build camaraderie, helpless to admit she was right. David needs to have a healthier relationship with people and dance, and his crew needs that too. Dance shouldn’t be this closed off world, it should bring people together. This is an opportunity to do just that.

And if David’s honest, a dance battle sounds fun as hell.

“Okay with me,” David says.

“Deal,” Sara says.

They shake hands and out of the corner of his eyes, David sees a familiar lanky figure with blond hair walk through the studio entrance. He keeps a smile to himself, not breaking eye contact with Sara.

David knows what’s at stake here, but somehow, he feels like even if he loses, he’ll gain so much.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We don’t have to go through with this, you know,” Laura says as she and David walk through the courtyard outside the studio on Saturday.

“But I want to,” David says, turning around to walk backwards in front of Laura and his crew mates. “It’s a morale boost for the team. Look at them,” he gestures behind Laura. “They’ve got a pep in their step.”

Laura looks over her shoulder to the rest of the crew. Essam has Mohammed in a headlock and they trip over each other trying to keep up with David’s pace. The rest of the members laugh raucously at a meme on someone’s phone. Linn, who’s not a member of the team, walks lazily behind Laura. She hardly visits the studio so when she does, she really takes it in and stays out of the team’s way.

Laura looks at David again, unimpressed. He just responds with a grin.

They walk into the studio to the ballet dancers already stretching. They’re not all in their normal ballet attire: some have opted out for sweatpants and casual attire. One side of the wall is littered with ballet dancer’s bags, and the other end of the same wall is bare. The hip hop crew go to the other end to lay their things.

“Not too late to back out, you know,” a voice says from behind David after he places his bag on the floor.

David turns and gives Matteo a cocky smile.

“I’m not one to back out of things,” David replies, shrugging. “I used to do that a lot, now I find it fun to accept a challenge.”

Matteo raises his eyebrows. He wears grey sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt.

“I’m just warning you, Sara is crazy competitive.”

David raises his eyebrows back. “Like I said, I like a challenge.” 

Matteo nods, a smile forming at his lips, another challenge in itself.

“See you on the dance floor,” David says, before walking away to join the rest of his crew on the floor.

After a brief warm-up, David rallies his group to plan.

“Amira, you’re our best freestyler. When the beat drops, take the stage,” David says.

Mohammed gawks and makes a sound of protest.

“Mohammed, now is not the time, we all knew Amira is the best freestyler,” Sam says as some other members snicker at Mohammed’s response.

David dismisses the group and meets Sara in the middle of the studio as all the dancers form a circle around them. They both sport cocky grins and stand almost too close for comfort.

“I’m raising the stakes,” Sara says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “If we win, you have to come to our ballet recital at the end of the year.”

Smothered laughter carries through the crowd of dancers. Normally, the thought of sitting through a ballet performance would make David squirm, but he thinks now, _why not?_ Camaraderie and all that. Hell, he thinks he would go had she not raised the stakes anyway. He looks at the rest of his crew, who nod and shrug.

“Deal,” David replies. He stretches out his hand to shake Sara’s.

“Wait, wait––“ Essam walks up to them with his both his arms stretched out and a confused expression on his face. David and Sara just stare at him, waiting.

“Who the hell is the judge?” Essam finishes.

Laura walks coolly into the circle with her phone up to her ear and Linn by her side. Laura looks at Sara out of the corner of her eye and brings up an enclosed fist to fist-bump Sara, who reciprocates with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Okay, see you soon,” Laura says into her phone before hanging up.

Laura nonchalantly puts her phone in her pocket and looks at the confused faces of Essam, David, and Sara.

“I talked to Linn’s roommate and he agreed to judge with some of his friends,” Laura says. “Talked to Sara, she’s cool with it too. He knows dance, and they’re all removed enough to have objective opinions.”

“And they’re very, _very_ fun,” Linn adds.

Just then loud hollers travel from the hallway and suddenly four festively clad individuals burst through the studio entrance with large cue cards and confetti canons in their arms. David recognizes one of them: Hans, Linn’s roommate. He wears a sailor’s hat and a black sparkly top with exaggerated shoulder pads and matching pants. Everyone looks at the strangers in awe as one of the individuals with free hands vogues through the studio and another showers confetti over all the dancers. 

“Welcome, House of Hans!” Linns yells, and everyone else in the studio is helpless to catch onto the energy and yell their excitement too.

“Hello, darlings! I’m Hans and here are my house members Andi, Kat, and Julius,” Hans says. Each person strikes a dramatic pose once their name is called.

Hans continues, “We are all here to have a good time but also make sure you all abide by the rules of a dance battle. One or two dancers from each team will dance to half of a song, and for the final song, it’s a free-for-all. We will each rate you out of ten with these cards,” Hans explains as he lifts a cue card with a bold 10 marked on it.

As Hans speaks, Andi, Kat and Julius drag in a table from the hallway and drape it with a sparkly metallic tablecloth. They bring in seats and take their places, sitting up majestically.

“Whoever wins in the end, wins the studio for a month, fair and square!” Hans says.

“Now I know you have beef,” Hans continues as he makes his way around the table, trailing a finger on the tablecloth, “but we are now in the House of Hans, and it’s fair game now, baby! Let’s begin!”

Hans claps his hands, and the lights in the room dim. Then sounds of music fill up the studio.

The ballet dancers are first up. They freestyle but, predictably, put their own (literal) spins to it. Two dancers take the stage, pirouetting and leaping through verses and choruses, inserting moves that would certainly not be allowed in any ballet choreography. But for this occasion, it works, and David and his teammates are thoroughly impressed.

The beat drops and, as planned, Amira steps in with fervour. She takes over the second half of the song and blows the previous dancer’s improvised choreography out of the water. Her sneakers skid across the floor, squeaking almost louder than the music as she shuffles. At some point, she takes the baseball cap off her head and starts performing hat tricks that has members of Pink and White and the judges waving their arms and hollering in encouragement.

The song ends with the ballet dancers dismissively throwing their arms and walking away, already accepting the lost round. The House of Hans judges give their scores as the next song is chosen: all tens for Pink and White. For the ballet dancers, all tens except for one nine.

David shrugs when Sara shoots a menacing look his way.

The next song is more of an R&B song. David steps forward. The rest of his crew lets him at it; they know he’s the smoothest mover of the bunch. And when it comes to a slow, sensual song, David can get the mood across. He rolls his body and takes dramatic stances, throwing his arms and kicking his feet with purpose. He wants to impress the judges most of all, but can’t help but be fuelled by all the eyes watching him.

He normally doesn’t seek out faces when he dances, but today’s full of firsts anyway. He searches for Matteo’s face in the crowd, and when he finds it, he finds Matteo staring intensely back at him. Then in a day of firsts, David encounters yet another. 

Matteo steps forward to challenge him for the second half of the song.

David knew ballet was beautiful and graceful, but Matteo’s movements with the tempo and melody of the music makes it more sensual than David could imagine it ever being. He can’t believe it, at some point turning around to shrug to his teammates and run his hands over his face in disbelief. He turns back to Matteo, who leaps into a final pose, kneeling on the floor with his face facing downwards. When he looks up again, the song has ended, and he grins at David.

“What? I thought you like a challenge?” Matteo says, for David’s ears only. 

From the applause from the ballet dancer’s side of the studio, David deduces that ballet won the round.

It’s surprising, really, the boy with the shy smiles, challenging David with confidence––and _winning_.

David cocks his head, smiling at Matteo.

“It’s not over yet,” David replies just as lowly. They both know he’s not just talking about the dance battle.

A few more songs play, and it brings both groups to a tie.

The last song shifts the gears. It’s a trap song, and it seems as though the ballet class is at a disadvantage. They could insert their own ballet moves but it would have to be extremely strategic to make it work aesthetically.

To everyone’s surprise, they do.

It’s a free-for-all for the final song. Dancers fight for dominance with their moves, switching off every eight counts. Pink and White get a little too comfortable, and David notices, but it’s too late to say anything now and he’s having too much fun to care. He cackles as Mohammed goes too hard on a backspin, thinking he might just break his back if he spins any faster. Hanna rocks a spin down shuffle while a ballet dancer jumps over her and lands with grace. Surprisingly, some ballet dancers, including Sara, insert some classic hip hop moves into her improvised dance and it works really well. Too well, if David’s honest.

“How did they go that hard?” Mia asks, breathing heavily as she rallies with her team at the end of the song.

“C’mon, we killed it too,” Amira assures her.

Each crew crowds to either side of the studio and await the judges final decisions. Everyone in Pink and White hold each other’s hands as they wait. David loses circulation as Laura and Hanna squeeze his hands on either side.

“This was a hard decision,” Hans says pensively. “There are very talented dancers in this room, on both teams. But nevertheless, here are our scores for the final song, which will break the tie and decide who wins the prize of exclusive studio privileges for one month! First up, Pink and White!”

Julius, Kat, and Andi all raise tens for the team. Hans raises an eight. The entire studio seems to exhale nervously.

“For ballet!”

Every judge raises a ten, except for Andi, who raises a nine.

Ballet wins.

The hip hop crew boos and the ballet dancers cheer and hug each other in glee, but the sounds fade away as David makes his way through the crowd and in front of Sara. David extends his hand when he reaches her.

“Good game,” he says, genuinely.

Sara stares at him, wary, before taking his hand. Then her expression melts into something soft, and a mutual respect blooms between them through this simple exchange.

Maybe Pink and White lost the studio, but as David shakes Sara’s hand, he looks over the faces of the talented ballet dancers. He could learn a thing or two from them, and he’d be happy to.

Laura walks up to the two of them and claps a hand on David’s back.

“Now that that’s settled…let’s fucking party!” Laura screams and the entire room erupts in cheers.

 

 

* * *

 

  

It’s a neon themed party. David didn’t get the memo, despite being Laura’s roommate and being, by proxy, the host. Maybe Laura mentioned it, now that he thinks of it, but he probably wasn’t listening when she told him.

He enters the apartment to find Laura, Linn and their friends crowding the entrance hallway. Music blasts behind them, a horny dance anthem with unintelligible lyrics. They all wear bright colors that pop in the blacklight, and David just wears a black t-shirt and black jeans.

“I’m telling you, she has a crush on you!” Linn exclaims over the music. Her green hair glows in the blacklight and David can’t deny how cool it makes her look.

“Shut up, you’re just jealous,” says Laura. She pushes Linn’s shoulder but that just makes Linn pull in on Laura’s waist even tighter.

“Who?” David stands next to Laura, amused.

“Oh, just the barista at the coffee shop we go to. Today, she put a heart next to Laura’s name on the to-go cup,” Linn says.

“Ah,” David says, eyebrows raising with the revelation.

“She’s just jealous,” Laura repeats, slouching in on herself a little. Linn regards her fondly and the hand around Laura’s waist disappears behind her back. Laura straightens up quickly with wide eyes.

David suddenly feels like he’s intruding. He excuses himself hastily.

As he walks through his own apartment, with the strobing lights and striking colors surrounding him, he feels foreign. He thinks about Laura and Linn, so easy and sure with each other, as sure as he felt when he told Laura he didn’t have time for something like dating or romance, for something like what _they_ have. He’s not so sure anymore.  

The passing feeling of longing does just that––it passes. He rides the high from the dance battle and enjoys the ice cold beer that he grabs from the cooler in the kitchen. He scans the room as he takes a swig, leaning back against the countertop. He laughs to himself when he sees Essam trying and failing miserably to flirt with Sara. Mohammed stares longingly at Amira; if David didn’t know any better he’d think the boy was still trying to get with her, as if they haven’t been together for a couple of months now. Linn and Laura have moved from the entrance hallway to the couch, laughing in each other’s arms. David notices partygoers crowd on one corner of the room, going in with bare cheeks and leaving with bright colors smudged across them.

Then David sees Matteo, who seems to have already been there before David arrived. He wears a hat made of light-sticks that transform from one color to another. Notably, his cheeks are bare, and he’s changed into a loose olive green shirt with blue splattered across it in certain sections.

Matteo makes his way through the apartment slowly but surely, pausing to mingle here and there. David’s eyes linger as Matteo settles in with his friends, people David remembers seeing in the courtyard just a few weeks ago. The chubby friend elbows the taller one with stubble while Matteo talks up the third. And it’s all so easy, as easy as David remembers seeing them weeks before. He felt distant last time, but this time, he can hardly resist the pull.

David notices the chubby friend donning a familiar color pattern on one of his cheeks: a dark purple and blue, topped with a deep pink. He’s wearing colors of bisexual pride.

David swallows, hard, a thought appearing in his mind that he quickly pushes away. He tries to pay attention to others. Hans dances donning rainbow colors on his cheek. Kat vogues on the floor with shades of pink and orange smudged across one of her cheeks, and familiar colors of light pink, light blue, and white smudged across the other.

David is out, at least to his teammates. It’s not something he hides, but it’s one of those things that he knows he’ll never stop doing for the rest of his life: coming out. And suddenly he’s hit with the opportunity to, yet again.

 _Fuck_.

Maybe it’s the liquid courage in his hands, or the sudden realization that he’s somehow walked into a pride event, but David feels brave and terrified all at the same time. He takes a few more swigs of his beer and makes his way to one of the corners of the apartment, where he finds face paint set up on a table. He finds the colors yellow, pink, and blue and paints one cheek those colors. And on the other side, he paints white, blue, and pink.

The message is clear. Tonight David is coming out to the whole studio, and more.

He takes a deep breath while looking in the small mirror on the table next to the face paint. When he turns around, he locks eyes with Laura on the couch. She whispers something in Linn’s ear and Linn nods. Then Laura stands up and beelines it to David, her expression a mix between concern and something else David can’t read.

“Are you sure about this?” she says when she reaches him. Her voice is firm, her eyes unwavering.

David’s gaze locks with hers.

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

Laura’s expression transforms from concern to understanding within a split second––and then, a smile.

From that moment on, something inside David unlocks. He mingles. He transforms from a wallflower to a social butterfly and it feels _right_. Maybe all eyes on him, or maybe no one notices him more than they did before, but David feels as free as he does on the stage when he performs. He is performing his truth.

He makes his way to the other side of the room, closer and closer to Matteo, his end goal. If David felt aware of the eyes on him as he mingled his way through his own apartment before, he feels hyper-aware of himself as he nears Matteo and his friends. Butterflies flood his stomach and his palms grow sweaty. He approaches Matteo slowly from behind, only a few feet away, as Matteo speaks to his friend with the colors of bisexual pride on his cheek. The bi boy smokes a joint and nods enthusiastically at whatever Matteo has just said, and then he looks over Matteo’s shoulder as David approaches.

What happens next is not what David expected. The bisexual boy’s eyes land directly onto David’s left cheek, and his eyes widen and the hand holding the joint immediately shoots forward, past Matteo, and directly into David’s space.

David jumps back instinctively, taken aback by the sudden hand in his face. He looks from the hand to its owner, and finds him grinning.

With his other hand, the bi boy points to his painted cheek. “Solidarity and all that, right?” he says.

David suddenly realizes that the boy with the joint is referring to the pansexual colors on David’s left cheek. David grins in response, understanding and relief washing over his body. Pride brims in his chest––David thinks fleetingly that he’ll be feeling a lot of that tonight.

David laughs, shaking his head and saying, “Thanks, but I’m good with this.” He lifts up his beer.

The other boy shrugs. He stretches out his other hand to introduce himself.

“Jonas.” 

David shakes his hand. “David.”

David can’t help but look to Matteo who stands to his right. The relief that washed over him before gets replaced just as quickly with absolute anxiety.

Just as a million thoughts race through David’s head within only a couple of seconds, he realizes that Matteo looks just as confused. It dawns on him that Matteo only sees one side of David’s face, the side with transgender pride colors.

David turns his head towards Matteo and says simply, with all the confidence he can muster, “I like your friends already.”

Matteo’s eyes circuit between both of David’s cheeks, and David holds his breath through Matteo’s entire face journey: from bafflement to understanding. Matteo settles on a soft expression David can’t even fully interpret. David feels the butterflies in his stomach churn entropically. He thinks he might be sick. 

Then Matteo smiles a little and exhales slowly, gaze drifting appraisingly from David’s cheeks to his eyes, to his collarbones, and down his entire body until David knows for sure it’s not judgement. It’s praise. Matteo’s expression, it’s almost shameless.

David’s knees buckle and he feels the butterflies in his stomach transform into a molten liquid. The way Matteo looks at David makes him think Matteo doesn’t need any colors on his cheek at all to show what his preference is.

Matteo’s gaze circuits back up to David’s eyes.

“Yeah, they’re the best friends anyone could ask for,” he replies finally.

Jonas coughs, reminding David they’re in a room full of people.

David looks from Jonas to Matteo’s other two friends, who are trying their best to keep composed faces. The one with facial hair leans a bent arm on the shoulder of the other friend, the momentum of which makes them sway a little. They are both clearly high.

“Abdi,” the boy with stubble introduces himself.

“Carlos,” the other one follows.

David shakes both of their hands and, out of embarrassment, can’t stand to look at any of their faces, so he opts to look at Matteo’s instead. He’s not sure if it’s a better idea: Matteo can’t stop biting his bottom lip and shifting his weight from one feet to the other.

Abdi inhales sharply as he sees someone enter the party across the room.

“Bro, there she is!” Abdi exclaims.

“Stop pointing, you idiot!” Carlos chastises, quick to put his hand on Abdi’s lifted arm and bring it down. It’s too late––Jonas, Matteo, and David already found who Abdi is looking at.

Sam, who just walked in with Mia, Hanna and Amira, makes her way to the kitchen to fix them all a drink.

“You’re into Sam?” David says, surprised, turning back to face Abdi.

“He’s just been pining silently like an idiot for weeks,” Carlos says teasingly.

“When you see Abdi waiting in the courtyard after rehearsals, it’s not usually for me,” Matteo adds.

“Wait, wait, isn’t she a part of your crew?” Jonas says, idly hitting David’s arm with the back of his hand as he tip-toes to get a glance at Sam.

“Yeah,” David laughs. “I can put in a good word for you, if you want?” he asks Abdi.

“Woah, woah––hell, no. Let a girl know I like her? No fucking way,” Abdi protests.

“Bro, what do you have to lose?” Carlos asks.

Abdi doesn’t skip a beat. “My dignity?”

David bites back a laugh and looks at Matteo, who smirks and shakes his head.

Jonas facepalms and says, “Dude, what dignity?” Abdi smacks him upside the head.

“It’s always better to be direct, you know,” David says and all the boys listen to him intently. “How do you expect anything to happen if you never tell her how you feel?”

“Oh, deep,” Jonas says, nodding and drinking his beer enthusiastically.

“Yeah, let’s keep him, he’s got advice we can all use,” Carlos says, looking pointedly at Matteo. When David looks over, Matteo’s bright red and hiding a smile behind the rim of his beer bottle.

David hears an ungodly squealing noise come from Abdi in the next second, and when he looks at him, Abdi looks petrified.

Then, someone crashes into David from behind and he hears a familiar voice cooing, “David, come dance with us! Rematch!”

“Sam, we lost fair and square,” David whines as she drags him backwards.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just for fun this time,” Sam replies, her hair shining a majestic neon blue.

David lets himself be dragged away, but not before Jonas yells and grabs Abdi, who in turn drags Carlos, who in turn drags Matteo.

The dancers and their friends move on the dance floor, the fun from the studio appearing again in David’s apartment with no undertones of rivalry this time around. They dance until they’re sweating the colors off their cheeks and they becomes ugly streaks. They dance rotating through partners: Laura with Linn, Linn with David, David with Sam, Sam with Mia, Mia with Hans, Hans with Abdi, until David finds himself dancing with Matteo. It doesn’t last long, the tension between them too obvious to dance prolongedly. In the end, Matteo excuses himself to get another drink, while David gets whisked away to dance with Linn and Laura, staring at the back of Matteo’s head as the blond walks away.

The party dies down eventually, and David is reminded why he doesn’t like hosting parties: the clean-up.

Laura plops down dramatically on the couch as David sits with an arm draped over his eyes.

“You know you have to help me clean up, right?” Laura says.

David groans. “Is everyone gone?”

“Not everyone, but just about, and I think you might like who’s stayed behind, actually.”

David removes his arm from over his eyes. The first person he sees is Matteo in the kitchen, emptying unfinished bottles of beers in the sink.

Laura shoves David, and he laughs at her suggestive expression. “Go finish up,” she says knowingly.

David exhales loudly and does as she says. He makes his way to the kitchen, picking up unfinished beer bottles from the living room on the way.

Matteo looks up as David sidles up next to him to empty out a couple of bottles. They stand in silence, the music already cut out. Matteo audibly gulps. The bottles clink-clank against each other. The kitchen welcomes a breeze from the open window. He notices goosebumps on Matteo’s bare forearm and he moves to close the kitchen window.

“So Abdi left with Sam,” Matteo says finally.

David stares out the window at a street light, thinking of what to say back. He turns around and settles on: “Looks like I didn’t need to put in a good word, after all.”

Matteo smiles and says, “Did you mean that, what you said about being direct?”

David takes a second to remember the conversation from earlier that night.

“Yeah, kind of. And not only about getting girls, or whatever. I never got anywhere in life by just hoping things would come to me.”

“Uh huh,” Matteo says, staring into the sink.

David stares at Matteo’s profile as the other boy takes another bottle to empty.

“I don’t like to assume…” David says.

Matteo raises his eyebrows and looks at him from underneath his eyelashes, encouraging David to continue.

“But something tells me you don’t speak up much for yourself,” David finishes.

Matteo lets out a small puff of air through his nose and empties another bottle and sets it in the sink.

“I can surprise you,” he says softly, resting his empty hands on the edge of the counter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matteo exhales.

Something in the air changes; it becomes charged with words left unsaid. _Fuck being direct_ , David decides in that moment.

Matteo’s eyes travel from the sink faucet up to David’s lips and eventually to his eyes. David’s eyes make the same journey on Matteo’s face. Then they both travel towards each other, the space between them slowly reducing until their foreheads touch, and David has to remind himself to breathe. This is as direct as they can be, for now. _For now_.

They inch forward further, their lips grazing each other’s. And then a loud crash from the hallway breaks them apart.

“Luigi!” Jonas yells as he throws himself on the kitchen doorframe, barely keeping himself upright.

Matteo jumps back, immediately moving to grasp Jonas’ shoulders and lead him to the kitchen sink. Jonas heaves, but nothing comes out.

 _Sorry_ , Matteo mouthes to David, but David can only laugh and shrug while he pours a glass of water for Jonas. Laura enters the kitchen after hearing the commotion.

“He’s got to get home,” Laura says, concerned.

Jonas chugs the glass of water David gives him.

“I’ll take care of him,” Matteo says, pushing back Jonas’ hair from his face.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or adrenaline from being so close to Matteo before, but the next minute or so rushes by so quickly David can hardly keep up. Matteo helps Jonas to the door, says his goodbye, and disappears, leaving David with the ghost of Matteo’s lips on his own to remember him by.

“Changed your mind about finding romance, bro?” Laura asks, bringing David back to the present.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” David tries to sound dismissive, but a goofy smile betrays him.

Laura smiles.

“He’s a good guy, and hell of a good dancer too. Talked to him earlier in the evening. Shy, but determined. Seems like you’re breaking him a bit out of his shell.”

She steps closer to David and places a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it before walking towards her room.

“A word of advice: _this,_ I wouldn’t run away from, if I were you,” Laura says before closing her bedroom door behind her.

David stands in the hallway, dumbfounded. The hangover’s setting in, a headache tickling at his temples. He’s left with the mess of the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and a hell of a lot to think about. He decides he’ll wait until he’s sober to deal with it all.

 

* * *

 

 

Today, David dances for himself. He chooses a song off his playlist––a slow tempo R&B song that he discovered just a few nights ago. He hasn’t been able to shake the choreography that materialized in his mind that night; couldn’t wait to get to actually put it on stereo and see himself move to it.

He’s in the middle of a languid body roll when he hears a quiet cough by the studio entrance. It doesn’t break his stride, but his gaze shoots to the dark strip of hallway visible through the mirror’s reflection, past the ajar door. He doesn’t see anyone, save for a duffel bag just barely visible, floating in the air. 

David smiles to himself. He recognizes that bag.

The final chorus of the song plays, and David squats into his next move, bracing his arms on the floor and kicking his feet around until the front of his body rests fully on the ground. He balls his hands into fists and slams them in front of his head, dramatically marking the end of the song.

In silence, he pushes himself up until he’s sitting and braces one of his arms on his bent knee, wiping his sweat on his sweater’s sleeve.

“Like what you see?” David asks to seemingly nobody. But he knows who’s listening.

He’s met with silence. After a few hesitant moments, the door creaks open and the figure hidden behind it shows itself.

Matteo walks in slowly, awkwardly gripping the strap of his duffel bag.

“I, uh, wanted to practice,” Matteo says. “I made sure the studio wasn’t scheduled, but I can come back later––” 

“No, you’re fine,” David says as he pushes himself off the floor. He makes his way to his bag by the wall. “The floor is yours.” He gestures to the empty studio.

“I thought your studio rights were revoked,” Matteo says as he walks further into the room.

David shrugs. 

“What’s a little rule-breaking here and there. It’s just a little solo practice.”

Matteo hums, setting his bag by the wall and stretching his arms.

David takes a sip from his water bottle and shuffles his feet a bit, thinking of something to say.

“Did Jonas get home alright after the party?” David asks.

They’re only a few feet away from each other, and David keeps staring as Matteo switches to stretch his other arm.

“He crashed at mine,” Matteo says. “He had a killer hangover, but he’s alright now. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course. Your friends seem very cool.”

Matteo meets his gaze, letting his arms fall by his sides.

“Yeah, they are. Your sister’s not bad, either, you know. She’s awesome,” says Matteo.

David suddenly remembers Laura mentioning having talked to Matteo at the neon party. He wonders what she might have told Matteo; nothing that might make Matteo run away from him, clearly.

Matteo moves to stretch his leg on the dance barres.

“I used to dance ballet, you know,” says David seemingly out of nowhere, watching Matteo stretch.

“Oh?” Matteo switches to stretch his other leg. “Maybe you can stick around, give some pointers?”

“Well, I don’t dance it anymore. I doubt I can be of much help.”

David crosses his arms and leans back against the wall nonchalantly as Matteo finishes stretching and begins to walk to the center of the studio room.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” says Matteo.

Matteo takes first position in the center of the room, toes turned out and arms stretched out in front of him creating an oval shape parallel to the floor.

“Something tells me you’re only asking me because you just want to be watched.”

Matteo doesn’t deny it, he only gives a wide grin before throwing his whole body into a seemingly improvised choreography David hopes Matteo concocted just for him. There’s no music: just Matteo’s breathing and his feet lightly touching the floor and springing him back up into the air. Every limb of his body moves in tandem and creates a symphony all on their own.

David is absolutely entranced.

“I think maybe you’re missing a soundtrack,” David says eventually.

Matteo jumps and makes a complete turn in the air before landing elegantly and gesturing towards the speakers with his arms, as if all part of his routine.

“Be my guest,” Matteo says.

David smirks as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way to connect his phone to the studio speakers.

“Come to think of it, I think you owe me a rematch,” David goads.

Matteo laughs.

“I thought this was _my_ solo practice. And we won––” Matteo bounces onto his tip toes and continues, “fair and square. You heard Hans.” 

“Yeah, well, this time it’s just between me and you. And no stakes,” David says, choosing the same R&B song they danced to at the dance battle just a week ago. He turns around to see Mateo dancing en pointe, which surprises him.

“I thought male dancers don’t dance pointe,” David says. If there’s anything he remembers about ballet, it’s the fucking gendered rules.

Matteo laughs, trailing his arms in the air and forming an circular shape around him as he tip toes along to the beginning of the song.

“What’s a little rule-breaking here and there,” Matteo says, throwing David’s own phrase back at him. He plants his feet back on the ground fully and extends his arms as an invitation to David to join him on the floor.

David walks forward as Matteo crosses his arms and walks backwards, letting David have the floor. David breaks a sweat before he’s even broken into dance, his heart beating out of his chest for no judge but one. He decides he’ll focus on showing off his upper body strength. He peppers in side planks that lead into complicated footwork, and pushups that transform into slow moonwalks. Matteo watches all of this with a smile on his face, not even trying to hide his admiration.

“Those muscles aren’t just for show, are they?” Matteo says as David gives the floor to Matteo. David shoves at Matteo’s shoulder playfully as they switch places.

David notes that Matteo’s confidence skyrockets on the dance floor when the music hits. David asks himself, was Matteo’s confidence hidden this entire time, latent in song?

The song ends, and their heavy breaths fill up the room as the playlist shuffles. A fast tempo song plays then, with syncopated beats and hardly intelligible rap lyrics. Matteo raises his eyebrows at the song before immediately getting into an elaborate ballet routine, looking completely ridiculous with the hip hop music in the background. David clutches his stomach laughing as he watches Matteo dance pointe and jump into splits in the air.

David joins him, meeting him with his own elaborate routine that actually fits the song in genre. As the song nears the end, David can tell Matteo retreats a little, maybe losing the confidence he was so sure to have earlier.

As if to solidify Matteo’s trepidation, a slow song plays next on shuffle; a song to slow-dance to. Matteo makes a move to walk away towards his bag, but David reaches for him and pulls him back before he makes it too far.

Matteo’s whole body presses into David’s as David holds onto Matteo’s waist. Matteo’s face is stunned in surprise, but the song’s soft melody seems to soothe their anxieties, abating it to a comfortable buzz between them, full of potential.

Heat radiates between them, catching up with them after dancing for several minutes nonstop, and it doesn’t cool down no matter how slowly they sway.

“So if there was a judge, who do you think would win?” David murmurs, his fingers wrapping around Matteo’s waist onto the small of his back.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Matteo teases, smiling into David’s shoulder. David scoffs in response.

“Maybe, we both win.”

Matteo hums.

The song reaches its final verse, and David’s grip tightens involuntarily as he realizes he’s going to have to let Matteo go when it’s over. He almost can’t believe it, after weeks of watching this boy fade in and out of view, he finally has him in his grips.

”You know, sometimes I think, I don’t think you can surprise me anymore than you already have,” David says when the song ends.

“I bet you,” Matteo says, pulling his head back to look at David with lazy eyes, “I can.”

“Yeah?” David asks, leaning forward infinitesimally.

“Yeah,” Matteo replies, eyes shifting to David’s lips.

A soft love song plays next as their lips meet. Matteo’s mouth is soft against David’s, like he’s not sure how much of himself he should give, and David is just as unsure, feeling the flood of want tackle against the dam of their lips. He doesn’t want to scare this boy away. But the longer they stand there, exploring each other’s mouths, the closer Matteo seems to want to be, gaining courage with every breath exchanged between them.

Nothing is as direct as lips on lips.

Matteo ends up pressed against the mirror, the softness from before stressing under the tension of them together. They pull back eventually, resting their foreheads against each other’s. Then Matteo cups David’s face and begins to pepper his cheeks and lips with soft kisses. David smiles into it, closing his eyes as Matteo noses the back of his cheek and his ear.

“Do you want to get out of here?” David asks.

Matteo pulls back to look into David’s eyes. His blue eyes suspend David in time.

“Yes,” Matteo replies, and time lifts, drifting them to the world outside the four walls surrounding them.

David can’t wait to discover what’s waiting for him on the other side.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This has been David’s bedroom for years, since Laura and him ran away from home to start a new life together after high school. He made it his own little world, with himself as the almighty creator. Sketches litter his popcorn walls; high fantasy novels and series rest on shelves; all while plants flourish, scattered across the room and bringing life to the enclosed space. Somehow, after putting his entire life into making sure this space was his own, with Matteo in it, it feels entirely new.

With every question Matteo asks about where he got his blanket (a flea market) or when he drew a certain sketch on his wall (David doesn’t remember,) David feels like he’s discovering himself all over again. He feels like he’s lived in his own world for so long he’s forgotten the towns, cities, valleys, and hills that he’s built himself, left to whither away with neglect. Matteo blows away the dust and tumbleweeds with excitement, curiously tugging David along with him.

“You’re very mysterious,” Matteo says, sitting on David’s bed and staring at a sketch on the wall opposite him, after asking where David got a small wooden sculpture of a bird that rests on his desk. David had just shrugged.

“You’re very nosy,” David retorts, sitting down next to him. He fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt while Matteo still stares intently at the wall of drawings, as if trying to come up with an answer to a complex math problem.

They’ve been at it––this banter––all afternoon, ever since leaving the studio in the morning. Sometimes, the heat takes over, and they end up in a tangle of limbs on David’s bed, pressing into each other like they can’t get enough. But then something happens, they hit a wall they’re too scared to break through, and they break apart instead. David will take a bathroom break to splash water in his face, cool himself down, or go to the kitchen to bring back snacks and drinks. Matteo will get up and wander around David’s room, picking up knick-knacks, asking mundane questions about objects that mean the world to David, or forgettable objects that mean nothing at all.

“Why do I feel like that’s a sketch of you?” Matteo asks eventually.

David looks up, following Matteo’s line of sight until he sees the sketch Matteo speaks of. It’s an old one, David drew it when he first discovered hip hop in his preteens. An angry looking boy stares at the viewer, eyebrows furrowed with a strong arm raised and the other arm showing a closed fist. Dark, thick slanted near-horizontal lines cover of his torso, looking like armor or exaggerated ribs. The bottom half of his body is unfinished, but the boy wears a tutu.

“You tell me,” David replies simply.

Matteo tilts his head, his eyes not leaving the sketch for a second.

“You used to dance ballet, hence—tutu. You’re strong, hence the strong arms and armored ribs. Maybe it represents something you fought for, or fought against.”

Now it’s David’s turn to stare. He stares at Matteo’s profile, noting the furrow of his eyebrow as the other boy assesses the sketch after he’s given his verbal description. He stares at the lines forming at the edges of Matteo’s mouth, tense with thought and words left unspoken. He looks at Matteo’s hands, which fidget against each other in his lap.

A few years ago, David would have convinced himself that letting someone like Matteo into his bedroom, into his _life_ , would be a mistake. They’d read too much into it, or read David like a goddamn book. It would mean sharing things he never thought he’d have to revisit. David years ago would have run away. But now, he finds that sharing these things, with Matteo, is freeing.

Matteo fidgets more, eventually giving in to David’s stare, turning his head to face David.

“What?” Matteo asks.

“It’s just a sketch,” David says softly, raising his eyebrows.

Matteo doesn’t skip a beat. “That’s code for I’m right.”

David laughs, shaking his head and looking away. He looks back at Matteo, who smiles shyly as he leans into David.

They kiss, softly at first, then deeply. David pushes himself forward, leading Matteo onto his back.

This is new to David’s world of a bedroom. He’s built cities in the piles of sketchbooks resting on his shelves, valleys and hills drawn inside representing his journey of a life. He’s nurtured ecosystems in the plants he’s watered for years, growing alongside him. He’s made his own people and littered them in sketches across his wall. He made his drawings dialogue with each other, each having a particular relationship to the next, or no connection at all.

But this, a boy in his arms, who giggles when David brushes his lips against his neck and inhales sharply when David grips his hips with intent, who wants to know him as much as David, surprisingly, wants to be known–– _that’s_ something David never thought he’d see in his own world.

A world is spacious; David doesn’t find it hard to make room for Matteo at all.

 

 

* * *

 

“What’s it like?” Matteo asks into the darkness between them.

The sun has set and the song of crickets carry through David’s open window. The moonlight filters through the curtains of David’s room, enough to cast distinguishing light on Matteo’s face.

David hums a question.

“To be a leader. What’s it like?” Matteo says. His thumb idly moves along David’s stomach as he anxiously waits for an answer.

David hums again, trailing a finger down Matteo’s arm.

“It feels like…it’s where I’m meant to be,” David says after some thought. “It feels good to be trusted by people I believe in. It’s just this intense mutual trust.”

Matteo hums back. David leans forward to brush his lips against Matteo’s. They rest their foreheads against each other’s. 

“Sometimes I just wonder,” Matteo starts, “I think I’m more of a follower.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. I just sort of go with the flow. I never wanted to dance ballet, you know.”

David raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah, my parents sort of just stuck me in there, and I couldn’t really do much about it.”

“I can relate to that.” David exhales and turns to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“I sort of lucked out,” Matteo says. “I was good at it. And––” David turns his head to find Matteo biting his lip––“I love it, actually.”

David smiles.

“That’s good,” David says. He pauses a moment. “When you dance, you lead. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. Why should you life be any different?”

“I don’t know,” Matteo repeats, curling into David’s side.

David turns towards Matteo. He brings his index finger to Matteo’s chin and lifts it until they’re looking into each other’s eyes.

“You should trust yourself more, I bet people would listen when you have something to say,” says David.

Matteo brings a hand to cup David’s neck. David brings his own hand to cover Matteo’s; they intertwine fingers.

“It’s just that. Sometimes, I have no idea what I’m doing or if I even have something to say,” says Matteo.

“Who says I do, when I lead?”

“You sure seem like you know what you’re doing,” Matteo muses.

“I promise you, I don’t always.”

Matteo grunts, unconvinced. David feels something tug in his chest, knowing the conversation will need revisiting at a later time. For now, in the dead hours of the night, David settles for the serenity of a kiss.

Matteo settles in just as enthusiastically, shuffling closer and sliding his leg between David’s. He pauses a kiss to suggle closer in David’s neck. David brings his hands to frame Matteo’s face and lift him to his own face. He kisses him softly, pausing between quick pecks, then the brushing of their lips last longer, and soon Matteo is pliant to David’s manoeuvres.

“Is this okay?” David says, his weight pressing Matteo into the mattress, articles of clothing strewn on the floor next to them.

Matteo pants against David’s lips. “Yes,” he says, hurried and heated.

David smiles, closing the distance between them again, guiding Matteo into depths he’s not sure Matteo has ever been to before.

Matteo follows without a complaint, and David is more than happy to lead.

 

 

* * *

 

  

As promised, Pink and White attend the ballet recital at the end of the year. David is not anything if not true to his word.

David watches from backstage, having exclusive access, being Matteo’s boyfriend and all. His crew mates sit patiently in crowd, having some respect for the etiquette of a ballet recital. Daivd bites back a laugh when he sees Abdi reaching for Sam’s hand, which she slaps away quickly only to lay her head on his shoulder a second later. Essam, Omar, and Mohammed look on, absolutely enraptured. Amira sits pensively, with her thumb and index finger framing her chin, assessing the dancer’s work. Jonas sucks on a lollipop, while Carlos stares with his mouth open slightly. Mia, Hanna, Lin, and Laura sit in the same row, looking like normal human beings.

David looks back at Matteo on the stage, dancing a duet with Sara. He remembers the ballet stage all too well. A few months ago he would have run away from it; he swore he’d never revisit it when he denounced it years ago. But now David sees Sara, a leader like him, dance with Matteo, an artist like him, and all he sees are people he can relate to––people he doesn’t have to run away from.

He looks onto the ballet stage with rose-colored glasses––he looks forward with no bitterness at all.

When the piece is over and Matteo and Sara bow, the audience claps. Pink and White manage to get a few hollers in before getting shushed by other audience members. David shakes his head, shrugging when Sara shoots him daggers as she walks off the stage.

Sara punches David in the shoulder and says, “If your idiots keep acting like that, I’m not inviting them to anymore recitals.”

“Maybe that’s what they want,” Matteo snickers from behind her.

“ _Ha ha_ ,” Sara mocks. She turns back to David. “In all seriousness, thanks for coming.”

David smiles, offering a hug by extending his arms.

Sara looks at his arms and back at his face.

“We’re not there yet,” she says with an amused smile. She shoves at David’s shoulder as he laughs and she walks away.

David scoffs exaggeratedly as he walks towards Matteo.

“She’s so _mean_!” David jokes as Matteo wraps his arms around David’s neck.

“It all actually means she likes you,” Matteo says matter-of-factly and David hums in response.

“You guys really killed it, it was beautiful,” David says.

“Why, thank you,” Matteo says, idly running his hands through David’s hair on the back of his head. “I’ll have you know those last two lifts were my suggestion that our choreography actually agreed to.”

“Didn’t I say people would listen to what you have to say?”

“Shut up,” Matteo says, pulling away from David but David grips him by the waist even tighter. Matteo just laughs into it as they kiss sweetly.

“Let’s celebrate. There’s more to life outside those mirrored walls or the stage, you know,” David says, grabbing Matteo’s hand and guiding him to the changing rooms.

“Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?” Matteo replies teasingly.

After the recital, everyone meets in the atrium of the hall to congratulate the ballet dancers. David is suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who showed up to support the dancers. He counts heads of every one of them; many of them David would without a doubt consider his own friends.

They all hit up a bar after, dancing and drinking until they’re sloppy. At some point a ballet dancer, Leonie, asks David in passing about the Ok.Cool music video that they had already shot. To his drunken surprise, his entire entourage quiets down to hear his response.

“Well, we filmed it already and it premieres next week on YouTube,” David slurs.

“Meaning, premiere party at our place!” Laura yells in a stupor.

As drunk as he is, he’s still shocked by everyone’s cheery response. Someone pats him on the back in congratulations, someone else voices how proud they are of David and the team, and then Matteo’s arm appears around his waist and his boyfriend is whispering how much he admires David in David’s ear.

Surrounded by the people he trusts most in life, David thinks to himself all throughout the night: he’s the luckiest guy in the world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

David enters his apartment to the Wii Tennis theme music playing way, way too loud. The familiar voices of Essam and Omar scream even louder.

“Fuck you, you cheated!”

“How the fuck do you even cheat at _Wii Tennis_?”

David already has a headache.

He tosses his keys on a bedside table and makes his way to the living room. He finds, as expected, Essam and Omar at a standstill in the middle of the room while the rest of Pink and White sit squeezed on the couch, half of them facepalming at the brothers’ quarrel. Laura stands with Sara and Leonie in the kitchen across the hall preparing snacks. Matteo stands up from the arm of the couch when he sees David enter the room.

“Hey,” Matteo says as he hugs David and kisses his cheek.

“Took you long enough!” Amira exclaims, shifting to make space for David on the end of the couch. David settles next to her and Matteo sits on his lap.

“Sorry, I didn’t know I’d be missing out on,” David pauses to gesture towards Amira’s brothers, “ _this_.”

“Whatever, I won anyway,” Essam says, throwing his arms up dramatically.

“Because you _cheated_ ,” Omar whines.

“I swear, if you two don’t shut the fuck up about Wii Tennis––” Mohammed interjects, rubbing his eyebrows.

Matteo tries his best to hide his snickers in David’s neck.

Over the next half hour, more ballet dancers show up, along with Matteo’s friends and even Linn’s roommate and the members of House of Hans. Again, David is taken aback by the level of support for this three-minute production.

When they’ve all settled in, scattered on the floor with countless pillows and snacks to feed them through the night, Laura reaches for the remote controller and sets up YouTube on the screen.

The music video begins to play, and the whole living room is consumed with silence when the Ok.Cool members appear on the screen. David leans on his knees, Matteo gripping his shoulders and massaging lightly.

Then David appears on screen, and squeals travel through his living room with excitement. The cinematographic work is impressive, zooming in and out in tandem with David’s movements. The camera pans out to show Essam, Hanna and Omar over eight counts, then Amira, Sam, Mia, and Mohammed over the next eight. When the entire crew takes up the whole screen in a wide shot, Essam whoops and hollers, causing a domino effect of cheers in the room.

“Remember that shot was so hard to get!” Amira shouts enthusiastically as the video shows her solo in one of the choruses. She idly hits Mohammed’s thigh with the back of her hand as she stares entranced at the screen. “The cameraman had a hard time getting the details of it; it took about ten tries.”

“I know, I was there,” Mohammed replies.

“Shhhhh,” Amira chirps back.

“But they nailed it. _You_ nailed it,” David says with a grin on his face.

The final shots of the video show the whole crew in synchronised choreography, but in the last few beats David breaks out in the center with final differentiated moves.

“Oh, shit! Now it’s art!” Sara yells as David lands a final pose on screen, and everyone laughs and erupts in cheers as the video ends.

“Let’s watch it again!” Omar yells, already reaching for the remote to replay the video.

They watch it a few more times, each time someone yells out a behind-the-scenes fact from the day of shooting.

In their first rewatch, Hanna yells about how at one point in the video, she almost twisted her ankle. She pauses the video at the exact moment it happens, and everyone else laughs once they see what she’s talking about.

In their second rewatch, Mia and Sam stand up in the living room and start to imitate Laura. They reenact Laura behind the cameraman the entire time while shooting, acting as a sort of pageant queen mom, mirroring the moves and encouraging her team on the other side. Laura takes no offense to the impersonation at all, laughing from the belly.

“So, crew parents, are you proud?” Mohammed asks after a few more rewatches.

Everyone turns towards David, who sits at the end of the couch with Matteo still on his lap and Laura, who stands beside them coolly. They look each other to exchange thoughts silently.

Now that they’ve done the music video, they have a little more cash inflow to fund going back to the studio, not to mention their month-long ban has lifted. And what’s more, Ok.Cool and other bands have reached out to Laura and David to collaborate more. The prospects are promising. And above all of that, David feels the energy in Pink and White at an all time high, their productivity unparalleled, their talent nurtured everyday.

David and Laura nod to each other. David looks back at Mohammed and answers, “Beyond.”

“Fuck yeah!” Sam exclaims, Hanna and Mia laughing beside her.

The premiere party turns into an actual party, with beers flowing and party anthems filling up the apartment. As the sun sets, people start to file out. Linn and Laura excuse themselves to Laura’s bedroom, and Matteo’s friends leave for another party.

Eventually, David lays on the couch with Matteo half on top of him. David plays with Matteo’s dirty blond hair as they both flirt with sleep. The street lamp shines through the dark room, casting light on an entry strip of floor beside the couch.

“Do you think if you did anything any differently that you’d still end up right here? On this couch with me?” Matteo asks, voice riddled with sleep.

“What do you mean?” David asks.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, but it’s interesting to think about, don’t you think?”

“Can’t decide if it’s interesting, or terrifying.”

Matteo looks up at David, taking the hint.

“Like I said,” Matteo says as he settles his head on David’s chest again, “it doesn’t matter. I guess what matters is that we _are_ here. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Right here, right now, that’s fine with me.”

David smiles, his chest warming up with fondness. Matteo, a boy who felt so sure no one would ever listen if he spoke, or follow if he ever lead, speaks wisdom and he’s only half asleep. David would listen to him in a crowd, make the world stop if it meant Matteo could be heard. David trails his hand down until it covers Matteo’s hand on his chest and they interlace fingers.

Right here, right now, is fine with David, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was such a challenge! This is my first AU and I know nothing about dance or how it works so excuse the creative liberties I took lmao.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been hyping me while writing this––especially Druck Gays Only Discord! 💗 And thank you to everyone who reads. 
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr @[nuevayor](http://nuevayor.tumblr.com/).


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